


Propositions

by TheWild



Series: Old habits die hard [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-22
Updated: 2017-10-26
Packaged: 2018-11-03 18:28:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10972917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWild/pseuds/TheWild
Summary: You don’t know how you always end up in this situation, but you weren’t one to complain.Shameless PWP.





	1. Jack Morrison

It had been a tiring mission. You could hardly remember how you got to your quarters and spread yourself out on the bed without bothering to take off your uniform- but you’d done it, somehow. And now you were awake at 5AM because you’d slept an entire day.

It was a miracle you weren’t awake in the middle of the night.

You’d left the lights of your room on- no time to bother with those when you need to rest- and now you could visibly see the little light on your phone lighting up every few seconds. Who in the hell would message you at this hour?

_Report to my office asap._

Your face contorted into a bit of a panic when you saw the message from your Strike Commander- and especially when you saw he had sent it a day ago. Though Jack Morrison was an honest and good leader, he was kind of a stickler for punctuality.

You, not so much.

You rushed out as fast as you could- first changing into some training gear instead of your full outfit- and you ran like the wind through the winding hallways.

Of course, as you expected, there was no light on in Morrison’s office- it was a bit early, after all, and the man needed some sleep as well- and you found yourself bold enough to try and find his quarters. You don’t know if it was the panic of not having replied to the commander or the self-instigated clouds in your head from sleeping too long, but you did not think that was a bad idea. Or an inappropriate idea, for that matter.

It only seemed logical you went to see him _as soon as possible_.

They were easy to find, his quarters- a block away but reachable by just jogging lightly through the mess hall- and clearly also a lot bigger than yours. Understandable, but you’d love a small apartment of your own as well.

You shrugged off that thought and knocked on the door curtly- carefully.

No reply.

“Commander Morrison, sir, recruit (...) from Squad 12 here to deliver a report on mission Malmedy, sir,” your voice was just loud enough to pass through the door- it was not the first time you’d spoken to doors trying to get someone to open them- and you repeated your knocking.

You could hear incomprehensible grumbles from the other side and soon the door slid open quietly, revealing…

Well, revealing quite the disheveled Strike Commander.

Boxers dangling dangerously below his hipbone- but at least he was still wearing that, the rest of him completely uncovered. The bright lights of the hallway lit up his face- his hair was a mess too, and it was somehow endearing to see he didn’t always look perfect and neat.

“What do you want?” his voice is gruff but not annoyed- just very tired.

“Sir, you asked me to bring you a report on mission Malmedy, sir...a good 24 hours ago,” your feet shuffle and eyes dart to anywhere but his face- stealing a glance into his quarters and at the very clean doorway and also perhaps his arms, leaning back on it.

He takes a few moments before he realizes what report exactly.

“Ah, yes. Come in.”

That was...weird.

As were the rose petals on the bed.

For some reason, there was also a buffet in his room.

It didn’t make any sense.

Nonetheless, you entered- albeit a bit wary of the strange rosy colour of the entire view, as well as the mouthwatering buffet that was sitting in front of you- taking a seat on the bed casually while your very naked Commander took to leaning on the buffet table.

“Let’s hear the report then,” he remarked casually- either he didn’t notice your blatant staring at his state of undress and well-toned body, or he didn’t care.

Knowing Jack Morrison, he probably hadn’t noticed yet.

“Yes, uh, everything went great-”

You were interrupted by a plate of food, extravagantly filled and decorated, being shoved in your face.

“Take a sip, won’t you?”

Right when you were about to ask how you were supposed to take a sip from a plate of food- a weird question, definitely when it comes from someone like Jack Morrison- your eyes shoot open to see none of it is real.

Except the light on your phone that kept shining in a continuous pattern.

“Shit, shit, shit-” you curse- at both your dream-self and dream-Strike Commander- as you jump out, grabbing at the phone and nearly dropping it on the floor.

“ _R_ _eport to my office ASAP about the Malmedy mission._ ”

You were just going to assume he meant during office hours.

* * *

At breakfast, your squad has left an open spot for you to sit at and are busy talking about a heated subject. It’s clear by the way they raise their voices.

“I’m telling you it’s not that bad-” one of the girls shrieks, a high-pitched voice that makes the table next to yours curse. You carefully set down your tray.

“What are we yelling about today?” you ask, smirking, and everyone gives you a greeting while they seem to figure out who has to explain it.

“We’re trying to figure out whether or not having casual sex with your boss is bad.”

You remember the image of almost-naked Morrison and try to not seem too flustered.

“Joachim here is giving 20 to whoever dares to ask the Strike Commander.”

Instead of continuing their fight, which you expected, the table turns quiet and heads lean towards you.

“You can try it!” Joachim exclaims- too eager, you don’t like it- and there’s nodding and grinning all over the table as you stuff a slice of toast with jam into your mouth.

“Piss off, I’m not compromising my job for 20 bucks,” you scoff.

The conversation halts as the Strike Commander passes through the mess hall at a quick pace, but that only lasts a few bittersweet seconds.

“It’s not like he’ll actually kick you out. I heard the Commander likes a joke or two.”

“And who doesn’t want to give it a 50/50 shot of sleeping with that hot piece of meat?”

You continue eating as calm as you can- face set on neutral.

“Inappropriate. But if you feel like banging him, you take the bet,” you nod, eyes still focused on food and brain on explaining why you were late with your mission report.

The mission report.

The report of the mission that was supposed to be reported at the Overwatch boss.

“Fuck, I gotta go!”

* * *

The lights in his office are on, now, compared to your dream. You’re glad about it- if they weren’t you were slightly scared a buffet and half-naked stud might appear out of nowhere.

“Commander Morrison?” your tone is careful as you lightly tap the door, “I’m here to bring Squad 12’s report on the Malmedy mission.”

It takes a few moments before the door slides open and you are welcomed into a normal looking office- Morrison sitting at his desk, fully clothed, perhaps a bit too much clothes for this time of the year- with normal furniture and no rosy glow.

“Take a seat,” he nods to a chair but he doesn’t look up- he seems to be drowning in paperwork, “Malmedy mission was very important, I hope you have good news.”

You shuffle your feet as you take a seat, the nerves of being in the quiet office alone hitting you- you never really liked giving reports.

“Everything went according to plan, sir. Data’s retrieved and we came back uninjured.”

He hums- low and rough and goddamn your legs squeeze together a bit tighter- before an awkward silence fills the room. It takes you exactly 3 seconds to remember the conversation at breakfast.

You don’t know what causes the lapse of judgement but you think back on the conversation in the cafeteria and decide to test just how far the Strike Commander will let a joke go.

“You know, uh…” you trail off momentarily when he doesn’t look up from his paperwork, but it doesn’t stop you, “if you ever want to bump uglies, Commander, I’m down.”

Jack doesn’t have time to react- the moment the implications register in his brain, you’re already out the door and leaving for your room- he assumes.

You must’ve been confident this wouldn’t get you booted out of Overwatch immediately, but then again, the new Blackwatch recruit has said much worse and is still around.

* * *

After exactly 12 days, 12 hours and 2 minutes, Strike Commander Jack Morrison is at your door. It’s easy to know he’s here to either accept your proposition or make it very clear that he’d rather not- Strike Commanders don’t just knock on random doors. On top of that, you hadn’t even seen the man’s face after you’d said your crude words.

“Commander Morrison, sir,” you greet, not bothering to hide the fact that you are not wearing a bra and that you are in the process of brushing your teeth- you wanted to get to bed soon.

“Recruit,” he nods and motions to come in- you step aside with a questioning expression as the door closes slowly.

“Am I going to get fired?”

Jack knows that you are sure you won’t be kicked out of Overwatch- your question is too relaxed, leisurely said with a hint of amusement. He rubs the back of his neck but refuses to be any less calm than you are.

“I’m here to take you up on your offer.”

Your toothbrush falls to the ground- you had been absolutely sure Morrison of all people would’ve brushed it off and forgotten it, forgotten _you_ , just one of the many recruits around here- but here he is.

“You’re kidding me,” you whisper, but he starts taking off his clothes until he is only wearing the faded blue pants and black turtleneck- leaving a neat pile of stuff next to your closet.

“I’m not,” he grunts, quietly, “assuming you are still up for it.”

“You kidding? Of course I am.”

You are quick to spit leftover toothpaste into the sink as well as rinse your mouth- all the while Morrison remains seated on the edge of the bed.

“So,” you turn, a sleeve sliding down to reveal your collarbone, “what would you like to do, commander?”

He gets up painfully slow- prowling towards you with a glint in his eyes- and once he is close enough he leans on the sink, trapping you in between a wet sink and a very hot commander. To be honest, you hadn’t really thought beyond getting him to say yes- you estimated your success at about 10% so it seemed useless to actually think about the results- but now you were left speechless.

“I don’t know, you were the one who proposed it,” he whispers, his hot breath gliding over your cheek and you hold yours unconsciously, looking him over now that he’s standing so damn close- man, what a pretty guy.

“Right,” you mutter- you are still holding your breath, tentatively, as he lowers his head so his lips are close to yours.

He smirks when you inhale fast and nervously through your nose- lips unmoving as if you’re afraid to kiss him after proposing _sex-_ and moves closer, making your back bend and you feel like you might break in half.

“Right.”

It’s teasing but sweet, the way he throws the word back at you, and you can’t help but give yourself a pat on the back for accomplishing this.

Carefully, he leans his lips on yours- they are a bit rough but the gesture is sweet and you lean into him, letting your hands leave the sink and settle on his shoulders. He doesn’t let them rest- he easily grabs your wrists and pins them at your back with one hand- and you can’t help the soft whine you exhale.

“Tell me to stop if I’m being too rough.”

“Yeah, uh huh, sure-” you reluctantly mutter, still quite busy grasping the situation.

You weren’t opposed to it at all but any moment now the buffet could appear.

You were sure of it.

While you are busy contemplating the fabric of reality, Morrison trails kisses down your neck and lets his free hand roam along your waist- dreams are really stepping it up these days. You can’t help arching into his chest when his teeth scrape and bite- featherlight but _god_ it’s hot- and when your thigh drags along his you can almost feel this is definitely real by the tent in his pants.

“Turn around,” he orders- tone sweet and dripping honey- and you comply almost immediately.

He lets your hands go and you lean on the sink while he starts sinking down- dragging the straps of your top down your sleeves and smirking against your shoulder blade when he sees you’re not wearing a bra- hands on your waist to firmly keep you in place when you suddenly miss the warmth at your back.

“Spread.”

You haven’t ever spread your legs that fast but you don’t feel like wasting time with useless teasing- if he wants your legs spread you want the man to do whatever it is he plans.

Your shorts are easily pushed down and one hand roams down to cup your ass before it drags down and back up your thigh to your mount.

One rub sends you leaning into his touch.

That unleashes the heavenly sound that is Strike Commander Jack Morrison laughing- something you haven’t heard yet but you are glad that you have now- as he kisses your thigh and taps your ass softly.

“Patience,” he finally mutters, and you can hear him unbuckle his belt and kneel down while your hands pull down your panties- making quick work of launching them across the room to make sure they aren’t in the way anymore.

When you turn to look at why he’s stalling, he’s looking up at you as well- bright blue eyes shining and the smirk still on his face. You can only whip your head back around while you turn red.

There was something so arousing about doing this in secret.

When he starts kissing his way up again, fingers digging into your waist and his other hand helping himself, he finds himself lapping at your slit and you can’t help the whines and moans that escape- you hold a hand in front of your mouth to try and be quiet.

You know the walls aren’t too soundproof.

Once he’s sure you’re not moving- aside from the occasional leg twitch and your body leaning into his touch- the hand on your waist sneaks around and when his thumb starts stroking your clit can’t help the curse that escapes when your hand curls into a fist.

“God, you’re eager, sweetheart,” he stops to talk but his hand takes over- skillfully- and you can hear his breathing get deeper and forced- “I can understand why you’d go around asking for this.”

It takes you a few seconds of seeing stars as he drives you further towards pleasure until you can form a response.

“Only asked you, sir,” you squeak, a finger entering and curling. A breathy laugh escapes his throat.

“Jack. I think we’re past formalities, recruit,” he hums before he moans and leans against your thigh.

You can’t help but notice he seems to have wanted this for a while as well.

“You seem pretty eager as well, si-Jack,” you correct, “just, you know. As an observation.”

“Smart mouth, huh?” he chuckles, dragging his finger out right when he was hitting the right spot- you whine and arch back but he doesn’t budge, thumb still slowly caressing your nub.

“What do you want?” he growls against your thigh.

God, that man and his voice.

“Please touch me-”

“More specific.”

“Please make me come,” you whisper, out of breath, twitching at the lack of touch- the warmth still building up inside.

It takes a long time before he does anything- it seems like a damn eternity- before he stands back up and leans himself flush against your back, length stroking at your mount.

“All you had to do was ask, sweetheart,” his voice is strained but hot in your ear as he enters in one fell swoop, easily falling into a demanding rhythm.

When you find yourself struggling to keep up he lifts your thigh and rubs at your clit again- you are seeing stars and you’re sure he’s enjoying the way you throw your head back onto his shoulder, singing moans.

When you feel his thrusts turn harder- animalistic, hips slamming into your body- you find the courage to weave your hand into his soft blond hair for support.

“Just a bit longer, darling,” he cooes in between groans, “just a bit.”

“I’m gonna-” you cry, “please- Jack- I’m-”

One more thrust sends you reeling- fire pooling down below as your breaths turn ragged, his growls becoming slightly feral as he reaches his own climax a few moments after.

You don’t know how long you stand there, leg raised and your boss panting against your neck, but it’s long enough for someone to be knocking at your door.

* * *

When you’re both dressed properly again- cleaned up as well as you can, but still looking disheveled- you open the door and find yourself face to face with your 20 bucks.

Joachim can only stare as thé Strike Commander exits your room with a blush on his cheeks and his hair messed up.

“You owe me.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuation of the last chapter.

You were browsing the news on your holopad leisurely- Hana opposite from you as she was looking at some Esports tournament. It had been hard to first adjust to the new Overwatch. When you’d gotten the recall you had jumped at the opportunity, but meeting the new, hardly military members had been a struggle at first.

That, and seeing the old poster reminded you of the night you’d convinced your commander to have sex with you. Not just  _ a  _ commander, but  _ the  _ Strike Commander Jack Morrison. 

You tried not to remember the base blowing up a few days after that, leaving you with no opportunity to confess your lingering crush.

Hana yells out a curse in another language and you startle, coffee shooting through your nose and onto the table.

“Hana, please, I’m trying to wake up before there’s yelling,” you scowl, moving to the counter to grab a tissue.

“Oh, sorry, Grandma,” she jokes, “I’ll be more quiet next time to soothe your old ears.”

“You have to respect your elders,” you smirk back, and it’s quiet for a few moments before she gets a curious look in her eyes.

“Hey, I was wondering...Were you with the old Overwatch as well?”

You glance at her, your cup, and then back up at her.

“Yeah. Wasn’t with the big brass that is doctor Ziegler or Reinhardt, though,” you muse, taking a careful sip and making sure to swallow it quickly. Your nose couldn’t handle another load of burning liquid.

“Hmmm. But did you meet any of them when they were...young?”

When she asks her question, Winston and Soldier: 76 enter. You give them a quick nod before turning back to Hana, who is still waiting intently for a response. 

“Well, there was that time I had some...close contact...with the Strike Commander,” you wink at her- surely that would shut her up for now, wouldn’t it? What teen wanted to talk sexcapades with someone at least 15 years older? 

She gasps loudly and you also hear both the gorilla and vigilante stop dead in their tracks.

“You are joking,” Winston instantly replies as he gives 76 a quick glance, cutting Hana off, as you lean your head back so you’re looking at him.

“Dead serious.”

Hana bursts out in a fit of laughter at that exchange, mainly because Winston has a look of utter disgust on his face. You weren’t embarrassed about what you’d done- in fact, you were quite proud.

Your eyes trail over to Soldier: 76, the mystery that you’d been trying to unravel for a good 74 days now, who has smashed the cup he was holding with one hand.

“I thought you were a boring old military lady but you are hilarious!” Hana giggles, and you feel flattered that a quick romp has made you gain some friendship. She leaves soon after, though, when her cellphone rings and she starts speaking in a language you don’t understand as she skips into the hallway.

Winston regains his composure and starts rummaging through the fridge as 76 is still frozen in place.

“I thought you were a by-the-book, protocol-following soldier,” Winston mutters as he grabs some bananas, and you give a haphazard shrug.

“Used to be. Don’t really know why I did that either but one thing I know is that I definitely don’t regret it,” you say, closing the holopad so you can focus on this conversation.

“You’re surprisingly quiet, though, 76,” you remark as you turn to him, arm draped over the chair.

He remembers that you always carried yourself proudly and unabashed, but it seems that over the years you’d gained even more confidence. 

“I am…” he starts, and you have to admit that the mechanical rumble- strangely familiar- is a surprisingly good feat, “I am not interested in discussing things like this.”

“Oh, come on. We’re all adults here,” you start, shrugging as you tie your hair in a messy bun, “surely you’ve not  _ always  _ followed military protocol.”

Winston is quiet again, looking back and forth, and you get the strange feeling that he knows something that you don’t which makes this conversation somehow more awkward than it should be. 76 finally relaxes his shoulders, leaning his tall figure against the counter as he crosses his arms.

“A subordinate did one time ask me to bump uglies.”

His statement sounds calculated and though there’s some gears turning in your head, all you do is grin and give him a thumbs up.

“Whaddya know, that’s how I asked Morrison as well!” you say, “Good to know I’m not the only one using that ridiculous phrase.”

There is a long silence. 

“Did you do it though?” you ask, just to make sure you are not stuck in a silent kitchen.

“I did,” he mutters in response. You finally stand up and collect your things- your communicator and some candy- before giving him a rewarding slap on the shoulder.

“Proud of you!” you joke, walking backwards towards the door, “Gotta go prepare for a mission. See you lads later!”

* * *

You hadn’t given the weird kitchen conversation any though after that- before, during, and after a short retrieval mission- but when you came back, you could feel the old Overwatch members regard you with a certain amusement in their eyes.

It irked you but you couldn’t really place why they’d do that in the first place, so you let the matter rest. You let it rest until you noticed that 76 had been paying more attention to you, as well. Not in a creepy way- he’d just become more talkative and open.

It was unnerving.

“Morning, 76,” you mutter after a sleepless night, entering the kitchen with shuffling feet. It was only 6 in the morning, so you were relieved the base was still relatively empty.

“Good morning,” he rumbles back, not looking up from the holopad.

While you’re making coffee- slowly, considering it took you a long time to locate where the coffee machine was again- you decide now was the perfect time.

“76, why is everyone throwing funny looks at me?” you start, and you hear him shuffle in his seat, “is it taboo to talk about having sex with your superior?”

He’s quiet while you grab your mug and sit yourself down at the table.

“Not exactly that,” he pauses, “it is...more or less the history behind it?”

You raise an eyebrow and give his visor full attention- he’s turned away from you though.

“So discussing Morrison is taboo?” you deduce, fishing for hints with your questioning tone. The visor finally turns, red glow fixated on your eyes.

“It isn’t really taboo,” he mutters, making you get tired of his careful answers.

“It is though. Did he rise up from the grave? Did I say something wrong?” your questions are hard and your tone is stern and though you can’t see it, 76’s leg starts moving up and down because he is getting nervous.

“Sort of.”

“What did I say that was bad?” you immediately interject, but he gives a sigh.

“No, I meant he sort of rose up from the grave.”

The sentence is uttered calmly but you can hear a tinge of fragility and a pang of guilt. Your eyes only widen a little- but your mouth become a straight line for a few moments.

“He’s alive?” you mumble softly. 

76’s hands travel from the coffee mug and holopad to the sides of his visor and it makes a hissing noise as the front detaches, making everything up until that point fall into place.

You’re sporting a funny face, no doubt- wide eyes and puffed up cheeks forming a straight line for your mouth as you don’t quite know whether you should be angry, sad, surprised or happy.

So you’re all of them at once.

It’s an older face, less glorious and beaming as you remember it, especially with the two long scars travelling down. But it’s definitely Morrison. He gives you a lopsided grin that oozes an apology.

You blink a few times.

“Right,” you mutter, eyes not leaving his. It was soothing to know his eyes were still the same piercing blue. 

“Right,” he smiles- you are quite sure he doesn’t know how to react because he’s not sure how you’re reacting- but it is somehow relieving.

“I…” you smack a hand down on the table, “Real talk, I don’t know what to say.”

He puts the visor down carefully and latches onto a finger of his gloves with his teeth- pulling it off slowly- before he carefully trails his fingertips along yours.

“If you’d like to…’bump uglies’ again, I’m down,” he’s still smiling and it is endearing how he’s giving you a throwback to the past- for a second you see the Strike Commander again and your cheeks turn red at the sheer surprise of the moment.

“That’s my line,” you smirk.

* * *

You hadn’t taken him up on his offer, partly because you thought it was just a heartwarming way of being honest about his identity, and partly because the entire base had been busy with Talon’s newest member.

76 hadn’t been around very much either, being either on mission or discussing other missions. It’s when you’re loitering outside the meeting room while everyone splits to go take a rest or get food- a mass of different languages and noises- that you notice he’s staying behind, leaning against the door frame.

“Base has been busy, huh?” you smile, stretching your back a little. He gives a light grunt in response.

“Want some coffee?” he asks, and you happily nod as you follow him inside the meeting room again. 

It’s a comforting silence while he prepares two cups, even though you usually don’t like long silences.

“Were you serious about bumping and grinding?” you suddenly ask when he’s sitting down again- visor off and coffee mug half empty already- and he calmly looks up to meet your eyes.

“Yes.”

You hum a response, making sure to hide the fact that it makes you kind of giddy inside. Carefully, you set down your own mug and trail around the table, making sure to make as much of a show of it as you can. He hardly moves except for those piercing eyes that follow your every step and he turns the chair towards you when you stop walking.

“Are you sure you’ll be able to keep up, old man?” you joke, leaning your hands behind him on the table so your cleavage is in his face and you are towering over him.

He hardly seems affected by the statement- calmly locking eyes with yours while two rough hands sneak under your top and pull you closer- even when he looks at your beaming grin. 

“I can make you regret that statement real quick,” he promises, and your grin gets even wider in anticipation.

“Can’t wait, Commander.”

He snakes both hands under your ass and lifts you onto his lap- you almost regret making the age joke considering he was still this strong but then again, he was in an organization that needed strong people- his eyes seem to be roaming along your face as if to see if anything has changed.

“I know my dark circles have been getting bad, but surely it’s not that bad?” you grin.

“I never noticed what you really looked like,” Morrison comments calmly, and you shrug your shoulders.

“We did just have sex once. From behind.”

You pause.

“That reminds me that we’re in a very public meeting room,” you say quietly.

You don’t expect to get thrown over his shoulder and carried out, but you’ll take it- giggling like a mad teenager in the process. You’re quite sure you pass a Hanzo in the process, who gives you the nastiest look, but you could care less- when you finally feel 76 stop moving you stop your giggle fit for a split second.

“That was fun, did you see Hanzo’s-”

You get cut off by a strong throw on the bed- you bounce up and down a few times before finally laying still- but decide you might as well pull out all the tricks and seductively lean back.

Morrison’s standing at the end of the bed, taking off gloves and vest and other unnecessary upper layers- you were lucky you only ever walked around the base wearing cargo pants and loose tops.

“I feel like you’ve become a lot more straightforward,” you muse, shaking your hair out of the ponytail you’d made for easy eating and drinking, as Morrison cocks an eyebrow up at the statement.

“Really?” he asks genuinely, taking off his shirt- and wow. Age did not affect this man in a bad way. Sure, there were a lot of scars- but the same was the case for you- but he was ripped.

“You seemed like too much of a goody-two-shoes to be doing this in such a manner 10 years ago,” you smile while he climbs up on the bed, leaning over you.

“A lot of things have happened in the meantime,” he muses quietly, suddenly distracted by a winding scar you sport that travels from your ear down to your collarbone.

“What’s this?” he asks, trailing along the skin with a few fingers.

“Someone tried to kill me. Ran a knife down and admittedly almost got me- if it weren’t for Angela being right there. Did you get those two during the explosion?” 

You don’t know how appropriate it is to bring up that event- but then again, he is alive and kicking so how bad could he feel about it?

“Yeah.”

His curt response proves you wrong.

“So,” you’re quick to change the subject, “what would you like to do, Commander?”

He looks you up and down slowly before leaning back so he’s just sitting on his knees between your legs.

“How about we get you out of those clothes first, sweetheart?”

He doesn’t waste time, much like how you remember from before- he removes your pants and underwear while you shrug yourself out of your top and fiddle with your bra- but you like how you’re both getting progressively more naked while still looking at each other. He takes a good look at you when all manner of fabric is properly removed- you’re still sporting a lot of muscle and a slight tan from a mission in Egypt- and he wonders why he didn’t take such a good look all those years ago.

You, on the other hand, are proud of your past self. Who would’ve known it would’ve gotten you here? Nobody, that’s who. But damn if it wasn’t feeling good to be under the Commander.

“Alright, what’s next?” you grin when you notice he keeps staring, as if he’s going to forget what you look like- that was another age joke waiting to be made, but you keep your mouth shut.

“You’re acting like you forgot how sex goes,” he grunts, leaning down again as he bites your ear. You giggle.

“Not quite, but you were  _ very  _ sure of what you wanted way back when.”

His hands are roaming along your sides as he rests his head in your neck- it’s warm and comforting and the display of affection leaves you blushing slightly- as you wrap your legs around his waist.

“There’s too many things I’d like to do,” he pauses heavily, brushing his cheek against yours while his arms sneak around your back, “it’s been so long.” 

You smile apologetically at the ceiling, locking a hand into his soft hair as you calmly draw circles- it always calmed you when someone was playing with your hair.

“Life on the run doesn’t include a lot of intimacy, huh,” you drawl because you know- though you’d been faster to rejoin the reformed Overwatch- how lonely life on the road can be. Soldier grunts before he finally kisses you- warm and sweet until his teeth drag along your bottom lip and dare you to get closer when he draws away with a spark in his pretty blue eyes.

You’d honestly expected him to start talking again- but he doesn’t, he dives down and nips at your nipple, pulling you up against his chest so he can use the other hand to tease the other one. 

It still baffled you somehow that he could hold you up with one arm, but he was genetically enhanced. So perhaps it wasn’t that particular.

You gasp when his hand leaves your breast and travels along your ribs, your side, your butt- before stopping at your folds- ready to  _ finally  _ get serious. He’s looking for a reaction from you when he starts rubbing slowly- carefully, sweetly- and he gets it when you try to start kissing his neck but are left whining against his skin.

“Commander-”

“I have a name.”

You pull back when he says that so you can look at him- he looks up from your chest with a warm smile on his face.

“J-jack, then, I...uh...I guess?” you stutter- you’d dreamed of the moment you could casually use his name but it seemed that when that moment finally came, it had your confidence crumbling.

“You have no idea,” he grins- pushing you back down on the bed as he shimmies down so his face is between your thighs, “how good that sounds leaving your mouth, sweetheart.”

He doesn’t give you time to respond as he starts lapping at your slit- quick and rough and unapologetically while you tap the bed sheets and throw your head back, moaning and gasping for air. You’re so close to release when he pulls away, and you let out a whine at his  _ rudeness _ .

“Comm- Jack, what the fuck?!” you sigh, arm resting over your eyes as you regain your breath.

“Why’d you ask me for a one night stand?” he mutters against your thigh- ever so often letting his hands come close to your throbbing clit but not quite close enough- and you lift your arm slightly so you can spot him in the corner of your eye.

He looked like a kicked puppy. After going down on you. How did he do that?!

“I had a slight crush on you. When you said yes, it made me feel special.”

He chuckles warmly.

“You asking me made me feel normal.”

You share a glance and turn red in the face again as you wrestle him down so he’s underneath you- he didn’t put up much of a fight.

When you straddle his hips, you have his length pushing up against you and it feels so damn good- you start grinding while your eyes close.

Soldier loves the look of you- coated in sweat and a warm red glow- losing yourself slowly.

You are too busy curling your toes and moving your ass to get the spikes of heat riding up into your body- until he puts both hands on your thighs.

“We need to get my pants off-” he grunts, and you notice he’s also sporting the slightest blush as a result of your actions. 

“Mmyeah-” you moan with one last grind- you swing your leg away from his side so he can take off his pants and underwear without any obstructions- brushing your hair out of your face so you can see.

And man, what a sight to behold.

The man had thighs that could crush another man’s skull, and he certainly was gifted down there. You kind of knew that last one already, but it’d been long enough for you to forget the specifics.

“Lie down on your back,” he orders, wrapping your legs around his back again as he rubs his length along your slit- you can't help the needy moans and Soldier can’t help inserting it in one go, roughly.

He easily slides into a natural rhythm as you’re both a tangled mess of groans and sweat and he keeps himselves busy with your breasts while you run your nails down his back.

When his thrusts get slower and his breath on your neck deeper, you turn to be greeted with a kiss.

“No condom,” he groans, and you hum in agreement when he pulls out and pleasures himself to an orgasm- covering your stomach before he crashes down on top of you.

“Ex-excuse me-” you start, lifted finger and aching slit- and he chuckles as his hand slides over and he makes quick work of it. His thumb is rubbing your clit while he’s got you riding two fingers and it doesn’t take long for you to unravel.

This had been the  _ best  _ decision of your life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What a beast. I have to get to class now.


End file.
